Old Filth

by Jane Gardam

Paper Book, 2016

Status

Available

Call number

FIC GARD

Rating

(735 ratings; 4)

Pages

289

Description

First in the Old Filth trilogy. A New York Times Notable Book. Sir Edward Feathers has had a brilliant career, from his early days as a lawyer in Southeast Asia, where he earned the nickname Old Filth (FILTH being an acronym for Failed In London Try Hong Kong) to his final working days as a respected judge at the English bar. Yet through it all he has carried with him the wounds of a difficult and emotionally hollow childhood. Now an eighty-year-old widower living in comfortable seclusion in Dorset, Feathers is finally free from the regimen of work and the sentimental scaffolding that has sustained him throughout his life. He slips back into the past with ever mounting frequency and intensity, and on the tide of these vivid, lyrical musings, Feathers approaches a reckoning with his own history. Not all the old filth, it seems, can be cleaned away. Borrowing from biography and history, Jane Gardam has written a literary masterpiece reminiscent of Rudyard Kipling's "Baa Baa, Black Sheep" that retraces much of the twentieth century's torrid and momentous history.… (more)

Language

Original publication date

2004

Physical description

289 p.; 21 cm

Media reviews

Wat een ongelofelijk gaaf boek heeft de Britse Jane Gardam (geboren 1928) geschreven met De onberispelijke man – wat knap om zoveel personages, tijdvakken, werelddelen, historische feiten en nog zo veel meer (schijnbaar) moeiteloos te verweven tot een zeer pakkend en aangrijpend verhaal! Het
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verhaal is spannend, ontroerend, verrassend, meeslepend en zo kan ik nog wel even doorgaan…lees verder
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1 more
Are you interested in venerable lawyers, the relic of empire? You will be. Do you want to know about the Far Eastern Bar? A reader of Old Filth, despite its unpromising title, will become passionately curious about such matters. This novel is surely Gardam's masterpiece. On the human level, it is
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one of the most moving fictions I have read for years. I shall always remember the scene in which, putting up at the garish hotel that has replaced The Old Judges' Lodging, this most ramrod-backed and disciplined of elderly men sees his wife's obituary whilst doing his stately breakfasting. He "wept silently behind his hands, sitting in this unknown place"
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